A Nightly Visitor
by LavenderMochi
Summary: Roman made himself a rule: he couldn't go to bed without coming up with at least one good idea.


Roman made himself a rule: he couldn't go to bed without coming up with at least one good idea. It was a simple rule, but the depth of it was grueling. There were factors involved that blocked ideas from coming true, and that was the biggest challenge. Sure, it was easy to imagine creatures such as chimera minotaur and dragon witches and call it a day. But Roman wanted to exceed the realm of imagination and make his ideas a reality.

Roman also gave himself guidelines. First and foremost, it had to be possible, especially because Logan would have something to say about it if it wasn't. Contrary to popular belief, Roman _did_ value Logan's opinion—he valued everyone's opinion. Secondly, it had to be something all the Sides and Thomas was comfortable doing, particularly with Virgil in mind. Roman knew he had the tendency to dream big, and according to the Sides, Logan and Virgil, that wasn't always a good thing, even if Roman considered it to be one of his defining traits. Lastly, it had to be overall perfect, otherwise it wasn't _good_. 'Enough' didn't suffice, even if Patton said it did. Roman also needed to fulfill his desire to be the best and then excel at _that_. After all, it was his job as the fanciful side to think of ideas and create things; That was his purpose and the reason he was useful.

That should be simple enough, right? After all, Roman knew creating things and having ideas were the only reasons for his existence. So, naturally, Roman was always the last person to go to bed, especially if a good idea hadn't occurred to him throughout the day.

o/o/o

It was one of those nights.

Roman was in his room, at his desk as the halogen light shined too bright for his tired eyes. His phone was lying on the corner, uselessly not playing any music to inspire Roman and only serving to remind him how many hours have gone by. It was ten passed one in the morning, and Roman was staring at a blank piece of paper filled with nothingness. What should have been there was a bullet list of the best ideas and sub-bullets to flesh out said good ideas. But, alas, the paper was empty, and the whiteness of the sheet was infuriating.

"Start from the top," Roman muttered—sometimes talking outloud helped him think. He tapped the end of the pen onto his forehead. "What should the theme be?"

Romance was out of the question. Logan would want no part in that and Valentine's Day already passed, so it was pointless. Action was difficult to do because Patton was so clumsy, and Roman doubted Virgil would want to be filmed doing some action sequence.

"A safe bet would be to re-create old vines. Maybe a little too safe?" Roman considered, then shook his head, "There's no reason to do it again when other great ideas await, Roman."

Horror was a no-go because Patton despised horror movies. At least horror movies with anything related to spiders. Musicals were always a safe bet, but mundane. Dogs were good, too. But access to dogs was the problem, and therefore possibly not possible.

It was at this moment—one fifteen—that a sinking feeling began to grip Roman's stomach. He didn't let it bother him, not yet, but it set in like he had just eaten a bunch of rocks.

Eating rocks! Maybe that was a good idea!...not. Logan would have his head if he ever suggested that.

Roman, still staring at the piece of paper, felt as if he couldn't think of anything good. Maybe that was the effect of refusing to sleep. Everything kind of already felt like a dream—kind of fuzzy and disorienting. Maybe, Roman entertained the idea, I should just go to bed.

"No." Roman pushed himself out of his chair, slamming his hands onto his desk. He shook his head fervently. "Roman, you haven't thought of _one_ good idea yet. If you don't, what will the others think of you? You're useless! You can't even do the one thing you're meant to do."

But, Roman needed to keep himself composed. The night was still young, kind of, and if he panicked too much, he'd wake Virgil. Virgil could easily sense when someone was anxious—that was just his thing. Similarly, if someone needed logical thought, Logan would appear. If someone was facing a moral dilemma, Patton would appear. If someone was brainstorming, Roman would follow that urge inside him and appear as well.

Roman cared a _lot_ for Virgil, as much as he didn't want to admit it. He hated being the cause of Virgil visiting him during the night because that meant he woke Virgil up. And that also meant Virgil would have to help him through a panic attack, should he ever have one. And that didn't happen particularly often, but it did once. It was the first time Roman actually felt as if Virgil didn't hate him enough to care for him. And Roman, well, he thought it to be charming that, even if it was four in the morning, Virgil would come to help him through his anxiety. Or maybe Virgil was already awake, conveniently, so Roman also figured he shouldn't read too much into it. But doing just that was completely against his own nature, so he couldn't help but speculate that Virgil actually cared a lot for him.

No, no, that's nonsense, Roman thought, Virgil would care for anybody. I'm not a special case just because I'm Roman.

But _still_.

"Enough about that," Roman told his thoughts, "I have to get back to the task at hand."

There was still that pit of rocks hanging out in the depths of his stomach, except the weight seemed to be heavier. Roman shook this off, rolled his shoulders, and returned to staring at the paper in front of him.

What kind of ideas does Virgil like, I wonder, Roman mused. Maybe he preferred ideas that weren't as demanding, like creating a playlist of his favorite songs for Thomas's fans to enjoy. The fans seemed to like Virgil a lot, anyway, so the video would certainly garner some views. But that wasn't very what Roman liked to call Side-inclusive.

Roman rested his head on the paper. It was hard to think of something Side-inclusive. Logan was always picky. Virgil was antsy. And Patton...well, Patton was possibly the only person who seemed to understand where he was coming from.

It was then—one twenty—that a strange thought reached Roman's tired mind. He wanted to please Virgil the most. Yes, that was very random, it even caught Roman by surprise. What kind of thought was _that_? Logan mattered to him, too! But, Roman supposed, Logan was always particular about the content Thomas created, and he was always going be, so it didn't matter if his ideas were good to Logan or not.

That Virgil was something else. Hitting the scene one episode after the initial Sanders Sides introduction, instantly becoming a fan-favorite. Roman wasn't jealous, except he was. Virgil wasn't part of the original Sides, yet he managed to become one of the most popular Sides.

But, that's the past, Roman, Roman thought.

It took him forever, but he did grow to understand Virgil's appeal. After long, dramatic nights lamenting the fact that he wasn't the most popular Side and that he hadn't gotten his own jam yet. In fact, Roman found he grew to enjoy Virgil's company as well when he wasn't being an anxious nuisance, which was rarely because that was exactly what Virgil was.

But Roman needed to focus. He wasn't awake at one twenty-three to think about Virgil, no. He was trying to think of the best idea ever known to man. Was that an impossible feat? Roman had no clue, but his tired mind wanted so badly to believe it wasn't. He wanted his idea to fly so high, it soared above and beyond all expectations for both himself and Thomas's fans.

Except...that pile of rocks in his stomach was weighing him down and getting _really_ bothersome, almost to the point it was becoming unbearable.

Roman _couldn't _think of a good idea. The one thing that defined who he was, and he couldn't do it. It was explosively frustrating, and on the other hand, severely depressing.

It was then that a dam burst, and a strong flood of negative thoughts swept into his head and drowned him before he could even build a raft. _Roman, you're so useless. Roman, you'll never be a worthy Side. Roman, everything you do_ _is equally as useless. Roman, you can't do anything right_.

Underwater, it was getting hard to think straight. The negative thoughts were making Roman feel very, very claustrophobic.

The following knock on the door did _not_ do Roman any good either. Roman, frightened out of his thoughts and his wits, let out a yelp of surprise and tumbled off his chair ungracefully to the floor.

"Uh-" Roman fumbled to get up, doing his best to recompose himself and make it impossible to tell how anxious he was. The shakiness of his voice betrayed him, but he was certain whoever was behind the door couldn't tell. "Come...Come in!"

The door opened in a creepy fashion and the temperature of the room felt as if it plummeted. Roman shuddered at the sudden cold, but more importantly, focused his curiosity to the figure behind the door. He spotted the green gleam of a wicked stare, and the figure stepped into the angled light of the halogen lamp. His green scaled shining, there stood Deceit Sanderss with a sly smirk twisted on his lips. Roman was at a loss on how to feel. For starters, he certainly hadn't expected _this_ kind of visitor at _this_ hour. And he was suddenly shaking with nervousness. What in the world was Deceit doing here?

"U-uh...Good- um, good evening, Deceit. Or...morning? Is it...would you consider it...morning?" Roman fumbled gracelessly with a nervous titter, "What are you...what are you doing here?"

Roman wanted to act like everything was peachy. He _hadn't_ been contemplating his dilemma just now. A strong bout of anxiety _wasn't_ plaguing him, not at all. He certainly _wasn't_ on the way to having a mental breakdown, either.

Of course, the shakiness in his everything proved otherwise, and he was sure Deceit could tell.

"Oh, you know," Deceit purred, one eyebrow raised, "Nothing in particular."

"Really? Oh." Roman tittered again, "Then...are you...okay?"

Deceit shot back coolly, "Quite, and you seem to be doing fine."

"I...I am." Roman swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Hm-hm, and those ideas are coming along breezily, then, yes?"

Roman was beginning to sweat, "Not...not really."

"_Really_? I would have never guessed." Deceit's lips curved into another smirk.

"I'm working on it."

"Oh, yes, working to find the best idea there is. Working so hard," Deceit said.

"Yeah, so if...uh, you could leave me to think for a minute-"

"Poor, poor, Roman," Deceit tutted, "Don't you know? You'll never have any good ideas. You've never _had _any good ideas."

Roman's stomach lurched, but he knew better, maybe, than to fall for Deceit's words so easily. Kind of. Or maybe not.

"That's not...true," Roman hesitated, "The other Sides would have told me if my ideas were bad. You're...telling a lie, aren't you?"

Roman was _certain_ Deceit was lying. He was _certain_. But...maybe...Deceit was telling a truth? Did he ever tell the truth? A feeling of anxiety was pulsing through his veins now, making him all jittery.

"Of course I'm not. Would I ever lead you wrong, Roman?" Deceit said, and then his eyes turned steely, "The others put up with you just because they have to." Deceit began to pace around Roman, like a predator and its prey, "Come, now, Roman. You know it to be true. They don't like you for your ideas and they don't like you. They just don't want to make _themselves_ look bad. Besides, you're so self aware, you said it yourself!" Deceit leaned in a whispered hauntingly into Roman's ear, "You're useless."

The jitters were uncontrollable and at the same time, Roman's body felt stiff. Deceit, pleased, leaned away from Roman.

"I suppose you can say I'm just here to tell you that you're completely right in every aspect." Deceit's eyes darkened, "It was the one thing you were useful for, but now that you can't even do that, you're _right_. You're not worthy of being a Side."

Roman wanted to cover his ears to block out Deceit, to collect his thoughts for a minute. But even his thoughts were drowning him. Oh, those were tears. No wonder his vision was blurry.

Deceit's words had stung. Did that mean his words were true? Roman couldn't find in his brain a reason Deceit was wrong. Oh, sweet Crofters, everything was wrong with him, wasn't it? Why _did_ the Sides put up with him?

Roman stood there, unsure on what to do with himself now that he had that questionable epiphany.

"Oh, how the time flies!" said Deceit, "Sadly, I must depart with you now, Roman. This has been a _lovely_ chat."

Roman was about to say something, but he couldn't find the right words. Goodbye? Well, the situation wasn't exactly _good_.

But, much to Roman's surprise, he didn't have to say anything at all. Instead, a third voice spoke for him, growling angrily at the door frame of Roman's room.

"_Deceit._"

Roman looked up, and found that Deceit looked particularly miffed, and that Virgil was standing half-way into the light with a menacing grimace only accentuated by his bed-head hair. Deceit began a slow, disarming laugh.

"Oh, Virgil. How lovely it is to see you at this hour," Deceit said uncertainly, "I was just about t-to leave."

"_Oh, yeah_?"

Roman had to be honest, he never saw Virgil get so aggressive. Yeah, he was certainly edgy, but most of his aggression was for show. But this...Virgil was prowling closer and closer to Deceit, and Roman was shocked by the realness of Virgil's expression.

"No need to get up in fisticuffs," Deceit said, "I'm on my way."

"_Get out_." Virgil roared.

Deceit said not another word and quickly sunk out of Roman's room in a panic. Gone, just like that.

Virgil eased up, looking to Roman who was still standing motionless in the center of his room. Roman looked back at Virgil, and Virgil seemed to grow meek.

"Roman...are you...okay?" Virgil neared Roman, taking small steps as to not frighten Roman.

Roman shrugged. Virgil wrapped his arms around Roman, and Roman found his could finally move. He crumbled in Virgil's embrace, a rush of sobs over coming him. Virgil didn't say anything as Roman cried into his shoulder—Roman assumed he would say something snarky or something else, but no. Virgil stood quietly, rubbing Roman's back as Roman let it all out.

Roman wanted to say so many things to Virgil. Was Deceit telling the truth? Did Virgil feel as if Roman was, in fact, useless and did he put up with Roman because he didn't want to be seen as the bad guy? Roman felt bad because he thought he ought to know the answer to that already and he was just being thick; Deceit was his _name_. Nothing he said held merit, right? Then why was this cloud of doubt still fogging his mind and keeping him anxious?

"If you want to say something, you can let it all out," Virgil said with a reassuring pat, "I won't judge."

It took a moment for Roman to collect the right words to say, and even so, it came out like a jumbled mess.

"W-Why do you...Why do you put up with me?"

Virgil stayed silent for a while. It was a little too long for Roman's tastes before he responded in a voice that was collected and understanding.

"Because without you, the Sides would be even more terrible," he said, and it was such as Virgil-like answer that Roman had to let out a small laugh. Even Virgil snorted a little. "But, all joking aside, you're the idea powerhouse of the Sanders Sides. What would we be without you? I'll tell you what we'd be. Not the Sanders Sides. You complete Thomas, so without you, pfft. Everything is pointless and we might as well not be the Sanders Sides."

"You...don't think I'm useless? Because I...I can't think of any good ideas?"

Virgil grabbed Roman's shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. Virgil's dark eyes were hard, but not menacing.

"No." he reaffirmed strongly, "No, I don't. Anything Deceit said, anything he claimed, they were all lies. He was only trying to strengthen your doubts and tell you lies about yourself. But he's wrong. And if you think- if you _believe_ any of the words he said, then you're dead wrong, too, and I will talk your ear off until you believe in nothing but good things about yourself. No more insecurities, you hear me?"

Roman considered Virgil's words with thought and it was clear to him that Virgil was _right_. Deceit _was_ only playing off of his insecurities and Roman was a fool for believing Deceit even a smidge. He _was_ the idea powerhouse and he _was_ part of the Sanders Sides, rightfully so. Roman didn't even fathom how he fell so deep into the rabbit hole of believing he wasn't useful or worthy to the Sides. It didn't make any sense. But the way Virgil put it did.

Finally, the heavy weight of rocks in his stomach was beginning to lessen. The dam was being rebuilt and the water was put back where it once was, sealed away and never to flood again, hopefully.

Roman pulled Virgil into a hug, burying his tear-stained face into Virgil's sweater.

"Virgil, thank you," said Roman tearfully, gripping Virgil tightly. Virgil hugged him back, and Roman could feel the radiance of Virgil's smile as Virgil shyly hugged him back.

"No matter what, I'm always here for you, Roman. We're always here for you." Virgil said. Virgil pulled away, even though Roman didn't want him to—he felt a certain comfort in Virgil's arms, at least at that very moment—and Virgil looked at him with his brown eyes that were no longer hard, but soft. "Roman...I think it's time for you to go to bed."

"But..." Roman looked to the notebook unmoved from his desk and the pen skewed carelessly on top of it. "But..."

"Forget about that." Virgil said, "Go to bed, Roman."

Roman was going to protest again, he really was, in accordance to the rule he made up. But the lull of sleep hit him like a wrecking ball and Roman was too tired to put up a fight. It was around one thirty now. Though Roman was distraught, his notebook grew less and less important the closer Virgil dragged him to his bed.

It was only after Virgil pushed him on the soft mattress and stifled him with the thick duvet did Roman finally forget about his notebook, the ideas, the dam, the rocks, the thought of worth, and uselessness.

_And_ he slept the best he had in months.


End file.
